Kinship
by ReticentResolve
Summary: Zevran and Fenris had only ever met twice, and yet they felt they understood each other. (Not yaoi)
Kiling had lost it's excitement. Nothing seemed to exhilarate Zevran anymore except the taste of flesh. And while that happened perhaps more often than it should, he would always be looking for another lover.

The first few times he had gotten his orders, he had been giddy with excitement, but now it just went on blandly, almost tastelessly. If it wasn't for the pleads of mercy, he'd say that there was no moment that he actually got interested.

Just the same thing over and over again, and he had nothing new to tell when he returned to Antiva. Same old, same old, every time it all seemed to lose more and more of it's old allure. And yet it was to be endless. He was sold into the crows at a young age, and once you enter, they aren't so quick to give you up. Especially when they had spent so many years training him. You would think that he would have been looking forward to nothing more than finally being allowed to complete what he was trained for, and you wouldn't exactly be wrong. His first assassination, he was giddy with excitement, hardly able to hold his knife straight. But that all changed when he realized that most of his training wasn't ever going to be used in the field. The majority of all of the killings were shrewd diplomats who didn't even know how to lift their fists, much less a sword.

"Ugh, enough of this reminiscing." Zevran mutters to himself in his strangely smooth, yet raspy accented voice. "I've still a job to do."

"Out of the way, elf!" A voice yells from behind him, a rough hand meeting the back of his head and pushing him out of the way as a man boldly walks past him, greying hair quickly combed back on a wrinkled head, showing that whoever it was obviously didn't care about his appearance anymore.

But it's not the man who catches the swarthy elves attention, it's the small boy following him, obviously an elf from the pointed ears and strange white tattoos. Slowly, the boy looks up, catching the eye of the assassin next to him briefly, Zevran trying vaguely to read what he finds staring at him within the green depths. He had never met someone who he couldn't find their heart staring out at him from their eyes.

But this lad had nothing out there, they were cold and cruel eyes, bordered by the white hair that made his skin seem so much more paler.

But who is this? Who is this beaten and battered elf who looked at him with a cool glare and a modicum of jealousy?

* * *

Fenris can't help but shake his head as he cuts down yet another one of the strange creatures inside of the cave that the Champion had led them to. Some assassin had fled to it apparently, and they were made to chase after him. But Fenris didn't trust the strangely rough looking noble. Nobles didn't have that scarred and experienced look here. They were fat and spoiled, never lifted a finger in their lives with the obvious exception of the champion.

But the champion continued on, because he was either too stupid, or too ignorant to know any better. And Fenris refused to believe that a man who had forced his way into the upper stratum of society through murder and espionage could still be ignorant.

"My my, very impressive!" A voice says, an elf walking in from further in the cave afterwards. Fenris glares over. Something seemed familiar about this blonde elf with the small tattoo on his left eye and the smooth voice that was currently being put to use making the champion blush darkly.

"I am sure, that is not necessary." The champion says, retorting something that Fenris hadn't bothered to listen to. "Now…who are you exactly?"

"Oh dear, have you never heard of me?" The elf says, leaning too close and making Anders growl protectively. "I, am Zevran Arainai, companion and very… _very_ close friend of the Grey Warden." He says, a tiny, yet slightly sad smile gracing his lips.

"Crucius Hawke." The champion says, holding out his hand with a wary smile. He obviously wanted to like this…strange gentleman, but wasn't quite sure how to go about it without evoking the wrong response. "I heard of you from the elves further down the mountain."

"Ah, so you're who he sent, eh?" Zevran says, circling around Crucius with a brow raised curiously. Anders looked almost ready to snap at this point. "Well, I must say, he made quite the good choice." He goes on as Crucius looks increasingly uncomfortable. "Nice broad shoulders, …quite a nice man you are hm, Champion of Kirkwall?"

"You…you know me?" The champion asks. He knew that his fame had spread…strangely far, but he didn't think that Antivans would know him.

"Who doesn't know the strong, statuesque champion." Zevran almost purrs as he goes back around Crucius, staying a bit too close for comfort. "The one who single-handedly defeated the Arishok, an almighty duel lasting through day and night!"

"Um…" Crucius begins, unsure how to respond to the praise. "It only lasted 2 hours…"

"Okay, so I might have added a little dramatic flair." Zevran shrugs. "All for the better my dear." He says, seemingly going too far in his pursuit of Crucius, brushing a strand of his blonde hair over his ear.

"I've just about had enough of you." Anders says, placing a protective hand on Crucius's shoulder and shoving Zevran back a bit. "Is there any reason why we shouldn't drag you back to Hightown?"

"Ah yes." Zevran hums, a knowing smile crossing his face as he sees how Anders is looking at him, immediately quitting his pursuit of Crucius. "Well then, perhaps you'd like to know that the man who hired you is of the crows, and that he is chasing me down for naught but quitting his organization?"

* * *

Fenris rolls his eyes in annoyance, watching as Crucius makes his way to the nobleman who had hired them to hunt down that elf. Truly, that human could be very terrifying when he was angered. Fenris had only truly seen him enraged when Oghren had trapped them within the deep roads. The human had viciously cut down any and all darkspawn to enter their path, Fenris could have sauntered about drinking brandy if he had so wished.

But that is a bit beside the point. Fenris shakes himself out off his thoughts when the elf appears again over the horizon, taunting the nobleman with an almost derisive laugh. Before long, the agents of the nobleman had all but thrown themselves and their newly unsheathed weapons at both Crucius and Zevran.

It certainly did not last long, with Crucius, Fenris, Zevran, Anders, and Varric all slinging their respective weapons, the assassins were dead within ten minutes. And again, they were found being approached by the smooth talking elf.

"Well, that's that." Crucius greets in a friendly manner, Zevran chuckling at his response.

"It certainly is." He says, glancing around the clearing at the strewn bodies. "I had best be on my way. They'll be sending more agents soon enough." He says, only then glancing up at Crucius. "I assume you'll be wanting to loot the bodies, yes?"

"You know…you don't have to keep running." Crucius says, once again that sympathetic tone that Fenris had come to hate making it's way into his voice. "We could help you."

Surprisingly enough, Zevran bursts out laughing, eyes closed and face crinkling merrily. "I don't believe that that would be in either of our best interests, friend." He says, shaking his head. "I'll be fine. I know how to outsmart the crows."

Crucius solemnly nods, turning his back to the elf with another kind smile showing on his face. Anders shot a slight glare at him, following behind Crucius, Varric rolled his eyes and gave the elf a salute with only 2 of his fingers before turning to take what he could in the way of salvaged arrows.

Fenris, however, stayed. "I know you." He says to the much tanner elf only 5 feet away from him. "I know I know you…only I know not from where."

Zevran cocks his head, looking over the other elf and seemingly searching his memory. Something definitely seemed familiar about those green eyes and the white scars. "You…you were the elven child, all those years ago in Orlais."

"And you were that assassin." Fenris returns, only with a more collected tone. "The one who snuck in and killed the old man ruling over the court."

"Ah, yes." Zevran reminisces almost fondly. He had gotten a good haul from the old man's valuables. "I remember him. Old man pleaded for his life. Offered me his estate, even."

"Hey, Fenris!" Varric calls, waving at him from where he and the other member of the group were standing. "We gotta get going if we're gonna make it back to Kirkwall before nightfall!"

The only thing further exchanged was a nod, before the pale elf turned away from Zevran, not even showing any attempt at saying his farewells.

It may seem strange, but as Zevran turned back to the cave where he had his supplies stashed, he couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with the other elf. They both hadn't had life support them. Nothing seemed to go their way. From an orphaned assassin to a slaved elf. There's a strange similarity, is there not?

* * *

A/N

I dunno. I just realized that nobody did a fic yet with these two conversing. I always thought that they would have a…complicated relationship…and here you are.


End file.
